Scrapyard
by Hodgeheg
Summary: A collection of all my Thunderbirds one-shots, two-shots, drabbles and extended headcannons. Will be in the TAG universe unless explicitly stated. Ch 4: Bohemian Rhapsody; Scott's stressed and his brothers have had enough.
1. Overwhelmed

**Disclaimer: I don't own any version of the Thunderbirds.**

Overwhelmed

There were few times that Scott felt overwhelmed. Lucille Tracy dying was the first time he could remember feeling the crushing hopelessness, the tightness in his chest accompanied with sleepless nights and bone deep exhaustion. He had felt- and if he was honest with himself, still did feel- a sense of responsibility for his siblings, borne from being the eldest child of a large family, and had taken it upon himself to make sure his brothers ate, washed, went to school and vaguely did housework chores whilst their father lost himself to work and grief. It was only a couple of weeks after the funeral that their grandmother had permanently moved in, but that time had felt like an eternity to Scott and even if he still had to help out with the cooking (as much as he could with his early-teen kitchen knowledge). Equilibrium was re-established, the sleepless nights mostly vanished, and Scott started to feel as if he was regaining some semblance of control over his life again.

The next time he had that same sense of overwhelm was during the early days of International Rescue, when the machines and routine of rescue was still brand new to the brothers. Those early days had been filled with mistakes and inefficiencies, whilst the sheer scale and number of disasters ate at Scott's soul. The calls and cries for help seemed to be endless, but unlike when their mother died Jeff Tracy not only picked up on, but responded to, the emotional turmoil of his sons, and rest days became mandatory in the fledgling organisation. As they got more used to the flow of rescues and settled more easily into their roles, establishing their team dynamics, some of the pressure eased, the rescues becoming more fluid and Scott's stress levels decreasing as a result.

This fluidity had shattered when their father went missing. Scott suddenly felt as if he was twelve all over again, being told that his mother hadn't made it following the avalanche. It felt as if his world had been ripped away from him, made all the more acute when he once again felt the weight of responsibility settle on him as eldest, no matter how misplaced that was. It was the same as last time, but also different. When Lucy died, Scott had been young and inexperienced at life, his siblings even more so, and the five had to rely on the routines of childhood drilled into them by their mother- up, dress, breakfast, school, homework, dinner, bed- to see them through. Now, they were older, had seen more and experienced more, relying on each other's strength. The fact that Jeff Tracy was missing, rather than dead (and he had to be missing, Scott would _know_ if his other parent had died), helped the brothers and they were able to channel their focus towards missions and searching for their father. Although there were times when Scott felt an acute pang for his father, heading into Jeff's office and running his fingers over the photographs on the desk. His brothers also went in there, he knew, and Grandma Tracy took it upon herself to keep the office clean rather than letting Brains send Max in to dust and vacuum the shelves and floor. They all went in quietly and individually, without comment, and for Scott it was a good way of grounding himself.

Scott wasn't at that level of overwhelm in his current predicament, but building levels of frustration told him that he wasn't far off. He was currently grounded, having contracted a serious bout of flu following a winter storm rescue, and had decided that since he was forced to stay on Tracy Island, he would make his grandmother's birthday cake rather than accompany her on the shopping trip Virgil had promised.

Scott was beginning to regret his decision.

Mess was all over the kitchen. Flour had managed to settle across most of the surfaces of the kitchen, whilst a thin film of sugar crunched under foot on the floor. Raw egg dripped down the side of the bowl that the cake batter was in where Scott had missed the bowl slightly, and there were small splashes of cake batter everywhere, including in Scott's hair. The mess wasn't even something that was bothering Scott that much. He cared more about the cake, or lack of, that he couldn't seem to get right. Several 'prototypes' sat on cooling racks on one of the other kitchen counters in varying states of hideousness; one was burnt to a crisp, one had sunk in the middle and another resembled a cookie rather than a cake, having not risen at all. It didn't help that the fever Scott had was making it hard to focus on the recipe book in front of him, the words swimming and moving around on the page. His trembling hands also meant that precise measuring had become wild guesses, the shivers that wracked his body causing him to put more ingredients into the mixing bowl- and the surfaces- than intended.

Setting down his wooden mixing spoon, Scott attempted to pour the mixture into the cake pans, batter dripping down the side. Just as Scott picked them up to transfer them to the oven, a wave of dizziness passed over him and he dropped them both. The metal pans clanged against the tiled floor, cake batter going everywhere, and Scott grabbed the counter in order to steady himself with a groan.

"What was- Scott! What are you doing?" came the razor-sharp voice of Grandma Tracy, who had come to investigate the source of the crash that had reverberated throughout the house. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"Was trying to make a cake," Scott muttered, eyes fluttering closed as his grandmother's cool hands pushed back his hair and felt his feverish forehead. It was a testament to just how ill he was that he hadn't made any attempt to style his hair that morning, the back of his hair still matted from his restless night's sleep.

"I can see. Come on, let's get you back to bed." She tugged his arm and he tripped after her, her hand like an iron grip.

"I wanted to make you a cake," he mumbled again, as he stumbled over his feet. Grandma Tracy hummed.

"I know you did sweetheart. Hey you, Gordon!" she called suddenly, spying the younger boy lurking in the corridor, hoping to sneak into the kitchen to grab a snack before anyone could stop him. "Go clear up the kitchen whilst I help your brother. It's my birthday, so no protesting," she added, as Gordon opened his mouth to argue. Gordon closed his mouth again and nodded, slinking into the kitchen and grabbing a rag from the cupboard under the sink.

Scott barely noticed him entering the kitchen, instead letting his grandmother drag him along the corridor without complaint. Part of him felt vaguely guilty at the fact that his grandmother was having to baby him on her birthday rather than relax and celebrate, but this was a fleeting thought that was lost amidst the others that were more focused on keeping him upright. Scott rarely got ill- that was usually left to one of his youngest brothers- but when something did manage to slip past his immune system, it often hit him hard. This bout of flu had been no different. He had woken up two days after the storm rescue, which had found him soaked to the bone in freezing temperatures, with a soaring temperature and the sensation that a hedgehog had taken up residence inside his throat. He'd barely made it into the lounge area before Grandma Tracy had sent him back to bed, and it was less than ten minutes after that that both John and Virgil had made the decision to pull Scott off rotation. Scott had the vague sense that he should be irritated that his brothers had made such a decision for him, but when the dizziness had set in he hadn't really been able to argue with it. Especially when he managed to _sleep _through the next call out, which was truly impressive. (He would later find out that Gordon, under John's blessing, had actually temporarily 'borrowed' Scott's comms device until Scott was better).

"Alright then," said Grandma Tracy as they entered Scott's bedroom. "Into bed with you," she added, releasing Scott's arm and bending down to pick up his fallen blanket from off the floor. Scott almost fell onto the bed, burrowing his aching head into the cool pillows whilst his grandmother covered him with the blanket she had just picked up. She sat down next to him on the bed, running fingers through his thick hair.

"'M sorry about the cake," Scott mumbled even as his eyes started to close.

"Don't you worry about it," Grandma Tracy replied softly, but Scott forced his eyes open again anyway.

"But I didn't get you a present."

"Tell you what. As soon as you're better, you can fly me to Paris and we can have cake there."

"Deal," Scott agreed, before finally succumbing to sleep.

**A/N: Scott is really fun to write, although that may be because I'm also the eldest in a large family. Also I feel kind of bad for sticking him with the flu very first chapter but most of this was written when I was sick last week...**

**Apologies if it's short, although I'm not known for writing particularly long chapters. This is mostly just going to be a collection of things I've written for Thunderbirds, whether it's a oneshot, drabble series or just slightly fleshed out headcannons. Who knows, maybe one day I'll actually be able to write a fully formed and plotted story, but I've been on this site for a while now and despite attempts it hasn't really happened yet…**

**Reviews are appreciated :)**

**Hodge**


	2. Sleeplessness

**A/N: I don't own Thunderbirds**

Sleeplessness

The waves were crashing softly against the shore in an inevitable rhythmic pattern, the air was just the right side of balmy and for all intents and purposes it was the perfect night, environmental factors for once pulling together to lull one off to sleep.

Except Gordon was wide awake.

It was just past two am on the fifteenth of February and Gordon was wide awake, unable to succumb to sleep no matter how perfect the surroundings were. He was sat at the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water below, the light of the moon and stars being just enough to illuminate what was needed. The house behind him was still and silent, although Gordon knew from past experience that it was unlikely that all the occupants would actually be sleeping.

The breeze ruffled his hair and in the next moment a figure had melted into existence beside him, slipping off their shows and sliding their feet into the water. Gordon's lip curled into a small smile, but he didn't turn to look at them, instead continuing to stare out at the ocean that was visible between the tree line.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked quietly, and the figure huffed.

"Could ask the same about you."

"It's my birthday. Can stay up if I want," Gordon replied with a casual shrug.

"Was, I think you'll find my dear, it's gone two am."

"It's still the fourteenth somewhere," Gordon countered, before finally looking at his companion. Penelope smiled at him, offering him a mug.

"Thought you could use some tea," she explained, and Gordon took the cup from her, fingers curling around its warmth. Penelope took a sip from her own cup, before settling it down on the decking beside her.

The two of them sat there in silence for the rest of the early morning, and by the time dawn came and movement could be heard from the house, the two had fallen sleep right there on the decking, Gordon's head resting on Penelope's shoulder. The sunshine on Gordon's face caused him to stir, blinking away the last of the sleep that had been slow in coming in the first place, but he didn't move, content to just sit there in peace instead.

**A/N: This was originally written a couple of nights ago when I couldn't sleep between about 2am and 4am, so if it's not great apologies. It was also posted to my tumblr that evening so if you see it on there don't fret, it's me :) I haven't typically cross-posted between sites before, but I kind of like the idea of having all my Thunderbirds stuff here even if I've also posted it on tumblr.**

**Hodge**


	3. Dance Monkey

**A/N: Rules of the game: put your playlist on shuffle and write the first thing that comes to mind until the song ends.**

**I don't own Thunderbirds or any of the songs.**

Dance Monkey- Tones and I

It hadn't been intentional. Alan hadn't set out to start a dance party in the middle of the pit, had only wanted to play some music to unwind to, but it had been some sort of siren call to the rest of the island. The beat had resonated throughout the villa, and one by one the occupants had first felt their feet tapping, then their heads nodding, as they swayed and danced to the beat. They had drifted to the main room, to the source of the music, and an impromptu dance party had started.

'Till I Collapse- Eminem

Virgil ran a hand tiredly through his hair, slumping deep into his seat. It had been days of missions, almost back to back, with each of them having to tag one another out in order to ensure that a modicum of rest was achieved, but it wasn't enough. All six of them were exhausted, John's tone becoming more and more terse as he relayed calls to his brothers, and it was taking every ounce of energy they had to get suited up and back out again. Virgil was considering going to bed in his uniform, if only to save a few precious moments, but sleeping in uniform was never a comfortable experience.

Virgil sighed, flicking the last few switches and dragged himself out of his seat. He had almost made it back to his bedroom when the klaxon ran again and John floated into existence once more, and Virgil spun around and trudged back to the pit.

Chop Suey- System of a Down

Kayo had never been one for fussing about appearances. Sure, she was neat and tidy looking, but it was with an air of professionalism, not because she was particularly bothered by how she looked. Her hair was brushed and tied back in a ponytail for functionality and her clothes allowed for optimum movement with minimum noise. One thing she did like, however, was swiping a small amount of foundation, a touch of blush and a flick of mascara. Just a little make up.

World's On Fire- Mike Shinoda

John frowned, staring at the screen below him with the flashing red symbols. Red warning lights had cropped up all around the picture of Earth, turning the usual serene blue to an eery red.

"Eos, can you check our systems? This doesn't look right," he said, using his fingers to spin the world around.

"Everything is operating as it should," Eos reported, her camera zooming over to John. "Is everything okay? Your expression indicates confusion."

"It can't be right. The whole world can't be on fire at once."

Momentz- Gorillaz (feat Del La Soul)

Scott loved his brothers. He really, really did. No one who examined his actions could say otherwise, and 'protective' didn't even begin to cover the way in which he cared for his siblings.

But there were moments, few and far between, where he could quite happily throttle one of them. Especially when they had replaced his regular shampoo with hair dye, then proceeded to rig some sort of feathered pillow contraption above the bathroom door that was activated when the door was opened.

He loved his brothers, but moments like this he hated them.

"GORDON!"

Right Now- Fort Minor (Feat Black Thought & Styles of Beyond)

Right now there was someone screaming as the cables on a bridge started to snap, which would result in the cars plummeting to the icy waters below. Right now there was an earthquake that was causing buildings to start to topple, whilst the shocks that had originated under the sea threatened an underwater laboratory. Right now there were two spaceships on a collision course with each other, with one of them unable to turn due to control malfunctions.

And right now, the Thunderbirds were one their way to each of these locations, offering reassurance and assistance.

What You Need- Bring Me The Horizon

"I'm fine, quit bugging me," grumbled Alan, swatting at Scott's hands that fluttered around him. Scott rolled his eyes.

"If you're so fine, then why do you keep sneezing? Why is your voice so raw?"

"Is not," Alan argued, crossing his arms and puffing his cheeks out, but the cough that bubbled up his throat undermined his insistence somewhat.

"Go to bed Alan," Scott insisted, ushering his youngest brother to the door.

"But people need me! They need help!"

"They'll be fine. What you need right now is rest. Now go to bed or I'll ground you for even longer."

Homemade Dynamite- Lorde

"That's so cool," breathed Alan, his eyes sparkling. Gordon smirked, leaning back in his chair.

"'Course it is."

"And it'll really fly?" Alan asked again, turning his awestruck expression from Gordon to the small model rocket on the kitchen table.

"Should do. Wanna go try?" Gordon asked, and Alan nodded, already scrambling down from the table and walking as fast as he could- he was always being told off for running- to the back door that would lead them into the dusty yard. Gordon scooped up the rocket and hurried after his younger brother, arms full of various store cupboard ingredients.

One explosion later, two young boys with soot covered faces were being met with an exceptionally exasperated Jeff.

"Next time you two do an 'experiment'... get John to help you," he said wearily, letting the two rascals run off to make more mischief.

I Miss You- Blink 182

Long distance relationships sucked. It didn't matter that both Penny and Gordon had the ability to fly across continents at a moment's notice, their demanding schedules meant that it was unusual for them to be able to spend any real time together. The pale glow of their holographic comms that formed the majority of their communication abilities was a poor replacement for the real thing, and Gordon found himself missing Penny more than he ever thought he would, yearning just to hold hands with her.

Carnival- Gorillaz (Feat Anthony Hamilton)

This was the worst mission Scott had ever been on. Somehow, the programme in a haunted house had gone haywire, and it was up to him to make his way through it to rescue the kids that were trapped inside and shut down the programme.

As the figures loomed out at him and the walls and floors swirled around him, causing him to lose his sense of direction, Scott cursed- and not for the first time- the fact that such 'attractions' existed in the first place.

You're Going Down- Sick Puppies

"Any last words, Kayo?" asked Alan, raising his sword and narrowing his eyes.

"I should ask you the same question," Kayo retorted, her expression set. She crouched and in the next moment the two had launched themselves at each other. Metal clanged against metal and sparks flew as the two of them landed. There was hardly time to catch their breath when they were moving again, engaging in a fierce battle…

...that ended abruptly, the battlefield melting away and being replaced with the sterile white walls of the simulation room.

"S- sorry guys! My bad!" Called out Brains, but Kayo smirked.

"No worries, Alan was about to lose anyway."

"Hey!"

Can't Hear You Now- Mike Shinoda

John couldn't hear them. For someone who lived his life in communications, who took calls from all over the world and spoke multiple languages, it was an odd sensation to be away from all the noise and chatter. All the cries for help that normally made up his life had been removed when he had been picked up from Thunderbird 5 by a grim faced Alan and Scott. He was vaguely aware that Eos had sent an emergency transmission to Tracy Island requesting assistance when John had seemed delirious and disoriented, and the bright red rocket of Thunderbird 3 had hurried on up to where Thunderbird 5's pilot had developed some sort of fever, somehow.

None of that mattered now, though. John was in his bed, and he couldn't hear anyone.

Starboy- The Weeknd (Feat Daft Punk)

John had always lived his life in the stars. As a child, his father had spent hours explaining the different constellations and how far away they were and all the intricacies of space, whilst his mother had helped him clear out the attic in order to turn it into a bedroom so that he could be closer to the night sky.

When he was older, a teenager, his weekends were spent at the museum in town, prowling through the science section until he got to the single, small space exhibit. He was there so often that the museum staff had offered him a part time role there, allowing him to share his knowledge with any curious member of the public.

What the Words Meant- Mike Shinoda

The first time Scott heard Jeff Tracy's last recording before 0X had exploded, he thought he had understood, that the ship had exploded with his father along with it. The second time, he had allowed a glimmer of hope to bubble up in his chest that his father might still be alive. This had turned to conviction when Braman was rescued, and a certainty when his dad stopped him from falling off the planetoid.

**A/N: I've done a few of these things before for other fandoms, but for me they're super fun and a great exercise when I want to write but not sure what or I have bad writer's block. I may actually go and expand more on the carnival one though, we'll have to see. **

**Please don't judge me on my music tastes XD**

**Hodge**


	4. Bohemian Rhapsody

**A/N: I don't own Thunderbirds or Bohemian Rhapsody.**

"Something needs to be done about Scott," Gordon announced, arms crossed and face set in an out of character scowl. Alan nodded vigorously in agreement.

"He's unbearable," Alan agreed.

"He's just stressed," Virgil reasoned, trying to placate his irate younger brothers. It didn't work.

"He was unbearable that last rescue, impossible to work with-"

"He keeps nagging about school work, I have Grandma for that-"

"And all the sniping at John as well-"

"S'not as if _his_ grades were always perfect-"

"Okay!" Virgil's voice cut through and silenced those of his brothers', his hands raised to try and quell the litany of complaints that had tumbled from the two of them, falling over one another as Alan and Gordon tried to explain exactly what had caused their irritation at their eldest brother.

"What do you want me to do about this, exactly?" asked Virgil, pinning Alan and Gordon with a look.

"We need him to lighten up a bit," Gordon explained.

"Otherwise he'll explode," added Alan, face full of conviction.

"I have a plan," Gordon promised, and Virgil closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But it'll require your help," Gordon added.

"Oh Hell." Virgil sighed, then opened his eyes again. "Fine, what did you have in mind?"

Scott groaned, leaning back in his his dad's _his_ chair, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. The rescue reports were finally up to date, and the financial records for Tracy Industries had been completed. Scott was contemplating having a drink to celebrate when music floated into the office from the centre of the villa.

"_Is this the real life? Or is this just fantasy?"_

Scott frowned. It sounded like Queen, but there was something slightly different about this version that Scott couldn't quite put his finger on.

"_Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality."_

Scott snorted- wasn't that the truth- but decided to investigate, hoping to find the source of the slight difference from the original song.

"_Open your eyes, look up to the skies and seee…"_

The music was definitely coming from the lounge, which didn't surprise Scott in the slightest. What did surprise him was the sight that greeted him as he rounded the corner.

"_I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy…"_

And there were his three earthside brothers, dressed in outfits that vaguely resembled the jumpsuits popular in the 1970s, big curly wigs one each of their heads. Virgil was at his piano, Gordon with his guitar, and Alan clutching a microphone as he sang with all the passion of Freddie Mercury.

"_Because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low, anyway the wind blow, doesn't really matter to me, to me."_

"What?" That was all Scott could say, completely lost as to what was happening. His brothers ignored him, focusing on the song instead.

"_Mama, just killed a man, put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he's dead…"_

Scott edged his way further into the room, mouth hanging open, whilst a small part of his brain acknowledged that Alan was a pretty decent singer.

"_Mama, life had just begun, but now I've gone and thrown it all away…"_

"_MAMA! Oooh!"_

Scott burst out laughing. He couldn't help it, it was so unexpected. John had popped into existence, floating in the middle of the room, complete with his own virtual- please may it be virtual, there was no way John would have on up on Five- outfit, as he continued to duet with Alan.

"_Too late, my time has come, sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time. Goodbye everybody I've got to go, gotta leave you all behind and face the truth."_

"_Mama, oooh, I don't want to die. I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all."_

Gordon and Virgil stopped in their playing, but the soundtrack continued, and Scott had to wonder what was next in this little musical routine that his brothers had created. Alan moved further to the front, Gordon and Virgil flanking him on either side whilst John continued to float at the back, forming a rough diamond shape.

"_I see a little silhouetto of a man, scaramouch, scaramouch will you do the fandango? Thunderbolt and lightning very very frightening me." _

One by one each of his brothers joined in the singing, first Alan, then Gordon and John, and then finally Virgil, all four of them harmonising together. For the first time since Scott had stumbled upon this very… weird scenario, one of his siblings acknowledge Scott's presence, Gordon handing him a wig that appeared out of nowhere. With a bemused smile, Scott slowly put it on, even as Gordon went back to staring straight ahead with a professionalism that Scott wished he would show on an actual rescue.

"_Galilleo!" _Alan squeaked into the microphone, before holding it out expectantly to Scott.

"...Galilleo?" Scott echoed, and Alan nodded.

"_Galilleo!"_

"_Galilleo,"_ Scott repeated, with a little more conviction this time.

"_Galilleo, Figaro, magnifco-oh-oh-oh."_

The song continued, all four of his brothers joining in, the tension and passion with which they sang building, until it broke into the guitar solo that, Scott was sure, was coming from speakers throughout the house that John had hacked and programmed from Five. All four of his brothers started headbanging so violently that Alan's wig almost fell off, and Scott started to laugh once again, tears coming to his eyes.

"_Nothing really matters, anyone can see, nothing really matters, nothing really matters…" _Alan sang quietly and solemnly, not bothering to push back the wig that had slipped into his eyes.

"_To meeeeeee…." _his brothers sang as the track faded out. The last note of the cymbol faded away and all four of them took a bow. Alan and Gordon came bounding over, leaping onto the sofa, whilst Virgil pulled the wig off his head and the John's virtual outfit disappeared, revealing his standard uniform.

"What was that about?" asked Scott, once he could breathe again, cheeks aching from smiling. Gordon grinned.

"You were being such a tight-ass we thought we'd cheer you up," he explained, and Scott, for once, didn't reprimand him on the use of the word 'ass'.

"Well it sure worked," Scott admitted, before turning his attention to John. "How did they convince you to join in?"

John's cheeks flushed pink, the colour distorted slightly from the blue glow of the projection. "Bribery. And I got to pick the song." With that, he switched off the communication channel and he disappeared.

"Want to do it again?" Alan asked hopefully. Scott paused.

"Different song? How about _We Will Rock You_?" Scott suggested.

Alan scrambled off the sofa, and Scott silently resolved to take more time to hang out with his brothers rather than just working constantly.

**A/N: I wrote and posted this to tumblr a little while ago, but I've been super busy and wasn't able to upload it here.**

**Hope you enjoyed it.**

**Hodge**


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